#recipe leaflet

[monkeyssalad-blog]

M.E.B. Christmas Fare : Xmas 1955 : recipe leaflet : Midlands Electricity Board : [Birmingham] : 1955 by mikeyashworth Via Flickr: It's a merry Christmas from the old M.E.B. - the Midlands Electricity Board based at Mucklows Hill just on the edge of Birmingham and the nationalised concern whose supply and distribution area covered much of Central England. The leaflet gives details of various Christmas recipes to prepare in an electric cooker and suggests that, as a present to yourself, why not get an electric cooker? I suppose suggesting you bought one as a present for someone else might be seen as being over generous.

[sluttyquarantinetheory]

I find it really funny when people voice their complaints about a video game by comparing wildly different elements. Saw someone complaining about how bg3 should have less soup recipes and more body type variance. And while I don't disagree on the need for more body types, the amount of difference in how difficult it is to add a soup recipe to a game verses allowing your character be fat is monumental. You can add a soup recipe in an afternoon. Not even. A customizable fat bodied character is a whole other ball game. Like I promise you the reason we didn't get fat characters is not because they spent too much time on the soup.

[riacte]

Unconventional format / mixed media / meta / epistolary fic ideas:

Script format but the characters slowly break fourth wall until they grow self aware and scream to leave but the script confines them.

Mock up notes of an author's fic outline only for a "fan favourite" / "author's darling" character to gain sentience and influence the story. The character changes the outline to suit their own agenda, and their changes are marked with a different colour whereas black text means it's the author's will. Maybe another character using another colour gains sentience. The different colours fight for dominance. Mom says it's my turn with the keyboard hey what the fuck man excuse me I'm literally trying to save my family can you guys let go and let me write your character arcs in peace OH FUCK OFF

Recipe fic. The story is told via those unnecessarily long backstories on a recipe blog in which you learn about someone's grandma or a breakup or literally anything. Bonus points if the actual recipe deals with worldbuilding (what ingredients are available? What utensils are used? How to serve this meal? Woohoo Dungeon Meshi) or in-cheek recipes (eg. "Recipe for making up with your estranged mother - Step 1: Mix patience, nostalgia, and filial piety and let it marinate for ten years. Step 2: Throw that shit into the trash because you're better than that")

Travel fic. A character is lost and trying to find their way somewhere. GPS directions, googling "x place to x place", tickets and dates, train station maps, leaflets. It gets weirder and weirder. You never get closer to your destination. You're walking around in circles. It's always 10 meters away. Where are you going and where have you been?

Receipts. Try to infer what a character is doing judging from the weird things they buy together. Also yipppee inflation tracker. On the other side, maybe it can be about a cashier/ shop owner getting to know their customers and what they order.

Written from the pov of an non-native English speaker, all the English words are italicized whereas their native tongue are the only words not italicized. Inspired by Kupu rere kē by Alice Te Punga Somerville. This is because I got salty about people from Ao3 Reddit saying they won't read a fic in all italics.

Murder mystery / "Among Us" style impersonation fic strictly using the chatfic format. Characters and readers will have to figure out which character has been killed and replaced from the way they text and use emojis. This is also because I got salty about Ao3 Reddit being a wee bit pretentious about emoji usage in fics. Maybe emojis can be important plot devices! Some people prefer to sign off messages with a heart emoji of their signature colour, so won't it be weird if they use another coloured heart? How about someone using lapslock suddenly using proper capitalisation and full stops? Can you tell if someone's phone has been stolen? What if someone's mother is pretending to text like their child? Why is someone suddenly only using UwU speak? Is it a bit, or have they been replaced?

Innocuous second person POV until the last line where it's suddenly revealed to be first person POV all along and the "I" has been stalking and narrating "you".

Other fun bits / Easter eggs / secrets to hide:

Decoding within the text itself. Maybe we get given instructions to find a word in x chapter on page y on the nth line. And when we as readers collect all the words, they form a sentence that spells out an important fact which the characters are oblivious to. Or maybe the in-universe characters find a book with the same title as the irl fic with a bookmark in it, and if you go to where the bookmark is stuck irl, you'll find the murderer plainly stated. The rest of the fic is about the readers having hard confirmation of who the murderer is while characters don't know.

A phrase is subtly repeated throughout the text of the fic and is spelled out with the letter that begins a sentence. It gives off the effect that the narrator is screaming and crying into the void (to the readers in the fourth wall) while trying to avoid detection. Bonus points if the same word is repeated for pages and pages to the point the lack of sentence variation feels weird and clunky.

Morse code!! I love morse code! Using onomatopoeia to convey the dots and dashes! The sound of rain pattering on the tin rooftop— drop, drop, drop. A low whistle of a train rumbling in the distance. He slowly sharpens his knife, creating a shiiing sound. A lengthy, high pitched squeal from his kettle. A dog barks. A sharp knock. His heart thumps. Dot dot dot, dash dash dash, dot dot dot. SOS. Maybe a character's death scene spells out the name of their mysterious murderer. Maybe a character is reminiscing their deceased loved one and the scene spells out what the deceased person would've wanted to tell them— "LIVE ON" or "I LOVE YOU" or something.

[najia-cooks]

Wood sorrel soup with green peppercorn and mint

The wood sorrels��sometimes called sourgrasses—are a group of extremely widely distributed edible weeds in the genus Oxalis. As their name suggests, wood sorrels have a distinctly tart flavor due to the presence of oxalic acid. The seed pods of the wood sorrels are crisp and quite sour, and are therefore sometimes called fairy pickles. Wood sorrel is a commonly foraged green which grows well in disturbed areas, woodland, lawns, and gardens; it may be used as a pot herb or a salad green, or be brewed into tea.

This recipe is for a blended soup similar to schav (Yiddish): an eastern European soup made with common sorrel (Rumex acetosa), vegetables, and smetana (sour cream)—and to potage crème d'oseille: a French soup made with sorrel or other sour, foraged greens; broth; eggs; and cream. In my version of this soup, the bright, lemony sourness of wood sorrel is deepened with garlic, tempered with a non-dairy milk, and complemented by the fresh, earthy, citrusy notes of green peppercorn. A garnish of chiffonaded mint or green onion adds some herbacious sharpness that plays well against the fresh wood sorrel.

Recipe under the cut!

Patreon | Paypal | Venmo

Ingredients:

50g (1 cup packed) wood sorrel

1 small sweet onion

3 cloves garlic, crushed

Margarine, to fry

Salt to taste

1 tsp ground green peppercorns

2 cups vegetable stock

1/3 to 1/2 cup non-dairy milk, to taste

1 Tbsp flour

Mint or green onion, to garnish

Instructions:

Wash wood sorrel in a bowl of water, then draw the plants out to allow dirt to sink to the bottom. Include leaves, stems, seed pods, and flowers.

In a large soup pot, melt margarine on medium-high. Fry onion, garlic, a pinch of salt, and half the green pepper until the onion is golden brown.

Add sorrel and heat until thoroughly wilted.

Add stock and simmer 10 minutes. Blend with an immersion blender.

Whisk flour into 1/3 cup non-dairy milk; add the mixture to the pot and whisk. Taste and add another splash of milk if the soup remains too sour.

Add remaining green pepper and salt to taste. Simmer another 3 minutes or so.

Garnish. Serve hot or cold.

Identifying wood sorrels

Besides common yellow wood sorrel (Oxalis stricta), procumbent yellow sorrel (O. corniculata), or slender yellow wood sorrel (O. dillenii), will also work.

All three species have leaves which are alternate (one leaf per node), trifoliate (three leaflets per leaf), and petiolate (attached to the stem by a leafstalk, rather than directly); have heart-shaped leaflets; and have yellow, five-petalled flowers. Leaflets open in the sun and close (folding downwards) at night.

O. stricta plants grow upright when very young, but are afterwards recumbent; each plant has only one root, so the stems are not truly creeping (sending down new roots at the nodes). Stems may have small hairs spreading away from the center. Flowers appear in branched clusters, usually from 5 to 7 per inflorescence. Pedicels (seed pods) are erect.

O. stricta roots once; if young and light, it is upright. If mature and heavy enough, it will lie recumbent along the rest of its length without rooting again.

O. corniculata plants are prostrate, spreading via overground stolons which root into the ground again at the nodes. Pedicels are deflexed (hanging down) or horizontal.

O. corniculata spreads along the ground; if you try to pull up a mature plant, you will note it is rooted at more than one point (if soil is available).

O. dillenii is sometimes considered a type of O. stricta. Plants are erect and may reach over a foot in height. Flowers usually appear in 2s, but there may be as many as 6 per infloresence. Stems have appressed (lying flat against the stem surface) hairs. Pedicels are reflexed (bent).

O. dillenii, upright with hairy stems and seed pods whose peduncles have a sharp bend in them, like an elbow. Leaves sometimes slightly reddish.

[mortalityplays]

The phenomenon of the ultra polished “zine” fucked with my perception of independent art in a bad way. My first show years ago I stressed myself sick about the quality of my work, then overpriced my stuff and was unable to connect with the other vendors.

Learning to let myself make low stakes, messy and cheaply made zines has genuinely helped pave a healthier and more joyful relationship to my work. At a show this year I had exclusively single sheet zines and had a blast sharing and trading, plus I made friends!

I really hope the word association with glossy publications dies soon and zines get weird and shitty again.

it's absolutely breaking my heart how many people in the notes of that post are relating similar experiences. people being rejected from submission based artbooks that market themselves as entry level amateur community projects. people going to their first cons and having their confidence shattered by professional level work labelled 'zines'. people getting screwed out of payment or not receiving books they paid for, and being shamed out of pursuing it because it's 'just a zine'. younger people who didn't even know zines were supposed to be handmade!

we have to rescue zines, we have to teach people the joy of making a little book of soup recipes from scrap paper and trading it for a little book of titty affirmations. a zine is an ikea instruction leaflet you coloured in. a zine is a manifesto about liberating e-bikes, illustrated with a roll of price stickers you found in a drawer. we cannot tolerate a minimum entry requirement.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

For London Fields chapter 2.... I have 3 words, but you can just pick one 😬

They are: towel, blush, curls

I love your writing and I love this story <3

thank u lovely georgia! here's a short snip for the word towel in the upcoming chapter 2 for london fields. dropping probably on monday!

“I’m home!” Oscar yells, more in warning than anything.  Christ, Oscar thinks to himself. The small space from the hallway to the kitchen is a sight.  There’s a traffic cone that Alex stole from his undergrad years that for some reason he has toted with him into various apartments, including this one. Chinese takeaway leaflets take up half the space on the mantle. Various jackets and a tea towel are draped on a coat hanger, which Oscar thinks is from Zhou’s second year at LSE. Recipe printouts are shoved carelessly into a spot above where the shoes are, because Oscar ran out of space in his room and they hadn’t reconfigured the storage to accommodate everything yet. Merch from a healthtech conference that Logan attended one year is abandoned on a chair, as well as an open box of Tim Tams – by an unidentified individual – next to it. Oscar tries to take in the scene through Lando’s eyes, his mind replaying everything from earlier: his undignified scream when Onigiri landed on him, the flour fall, the pigeon shit. He cringes inwardly.

[russellsppttemplates]

Can we have a little something more about Thomas and Élodie? I find it very cute that they get together and are something like high-school sweethearts! Also, Pierre and Charles are officially family! Can you imagine?! And Y/n Leclerc and y/n Gasly are also bffs and family. Wow, they're entwined!

It would be interesting to see Elodie and Thomas getting into a fight about something silly.

"I can help, too", Élodie added, getting up from her spot on the sofa and joining the boys outside. The Gaslys were spending their holiday with the Leclercs and the boys had bought a new game table that needed some setting up.

"Mama just called me and I need to start some things in the kitchen for lunch", Hervé called, "I can help", Amélie told her older brother, "this whole building thing can be your task", she pushed it to Alexandre, seeing Louis and Celeste debating on what team they should join, "will you be making that salad you did yesterday? Because if so, I'm im", Louis noted, seeing Hervé nod as Celeste followed him to the kitchen.

The sun was shinning and, for the most part, it should be a pleasure activity to build the table so they could use it to play together, but things started going south as soon as Élodie flickered the pages on the instructions leaflet, organising the different pieces according to the steps, "Amour, we'll just do it as we go", Thomas said, not thinking that hell would flip over at his suggestion, "it's best if we follow these", Élodie insisted, "we'll be fine".

From then on, Élodie only did something whenever Alexandre asked her, choosing to ignore her boyfriend until their parents arrived, calling everyone to the dining area as they spread out the take out boxes and brought what the rest of the group prepared in the kitchen to the table.

"What's wrong with them?", Charles heard his wife ask him, "they seem fine, mon amour, why w-", he replied, being interrupted by his son's girlfriend, "see? They followed the recipe, otherwise this wouldn't taste as good as it does. Because they followed the standardised instructions to make it", Élodie snatched the bowl from her brother's hand, taking a big serving for herself.

"It does seem something is up, yes", Charles corrected himself, grabbing the water bottle and pouting himself a glass.

By the time Pierre was helping in the kitchen since he was able to reach the top cabinet, he started wondering about the mood, too, "what happened with them?", he asked Charles' wife, "it seems my son thought he was smart enough to build the table without the instructions even though your daughter insisted on following them, and it lead to that", she pointed at the separated couple.

"She may get that stubbornness from me", Pierre mumbled, "and do you not think that Thomas has gotten that stubbornness from me and Charles either?", she chuckled, "knowing him, it will take him a bit to figure it out, but he'll apoligise, I'll make sure of it", she smiled. "I wouldn't put money down on Élodie not making him pay hard for it and earn it", he chuckled too, receiving the plates, "she knows where she stands, even if it is over some instructions".

(Thank you for submitting an ask 🤍)

[dresden-syndrome]

20/VI-1963. Borovice, Středočeský region, People's Union Republic of Czechoslovakia, EESU.

"Hope no one saw me near the road to Prague. Just down the street and I'm already there... Gonna hide in the darker part..."

One thing Radím failed to notice.

Patrols.

He knew all the streets get guarded by Security patrols past curfew but who could predict the daily patrols from main streets finding him there, on the forgotten road near the forest, half an hour before? Could've expected the surveillance getting tougher after the riot two days ago. Better to be careful - those leaflets Radím brought from Prague are a recipe for disaster. For class 3 at least.

One split second - and the patrols rushed towards his side.

Another patrol group. They're out for him.

Heart pounding, beating, panicking loudly in the boy's chest. Every breath burns his throat. Then, a blinding flash of car lights. Nowhere to run.

Disoriented from the feeling of panic and lights staring into his face, Radím felt a rough, almost crushing grab on his neck and hands.

"Comrade Štušek, you're under arrest."

Radím tried to push around - first, second time - the officers' grip is so firm he couldn't even move. No, no, it can't be like that... It was only down the street...

"Let me go! I didn't do any...."

As the leaflets fell out, he realized there was no point to plead.

"...People of Czechoslovakia... the regime is only strong when we comply... down with Communist Party... down with EESU...", - a clear high-pitched voice read out loud, "Didn't do anything, you say, huh?"

Radím knew he's now seeing his hometown for the last time. It's all over.

"Goodbye", - he hissed, pushing and kicking in the air as the officers dragged him to the dreaded black car.

@whumpuary #1: Captivity (does capture count as captivity?) / Secret revealed

Art taglist: @painful-pooch @prismpanic @generic-whumperz @suspicious-whumping-egg @onlywhump @whumpedydump @whumpthefifth (if you wanna get in, let me know!!)

[forbiddenmoss]

Part 3

Sitting on the peer watching the twinkling stars ripple in the pond the farmer didn't hear someone walk up the peer. So lost in thought they barely noticed Shane sitting beside them. He sat in silence unsure what to say so instead he bumped his shoulder against the farmers and offered them a beer.

"you look like you could use this" how tempting it was to just drink the beer. Have one more night to enjoy and be free. The thought brought tears to their eyes. How long before things go back to normal? Will things go back to normal?

"sorry I can't..." Shane interrupted before he could hear the gentle sobs stuck in their throat

"ah not a drinker. That's good you don't want to end up like-"

"I'm pregnant"

That killed the conversation alright.

For the first time Shane didn't just look at the farmer he saw them. The tears in their eyes the lost expression. They seemed so far away trapped in the prison of their mind.

" ok ... So how do you feel about that?"

Harvey hadn't asked that. He'd congratulated them and started talking about pregnancy stuff. They zoned out and hadn't heard a word of it. Leaflets were crammed in their pockets but beyond that they knew nothing beyond the fact they were pregnant.

"I ... I don't know. I'm not in the right place to have a baby you've seen the farm so much still needs to be done and I've only just started to turn a profit I have so much work to do I don't see how a baby would fit in with my lifestyle."

"so don't have the baby"

The farmer pauses "but ... I kinda want a baby and I'm scared this might be my only chance to have a baby and I know I'm still young and that sounds crazy but I'm just so... Scared" the tears started to roll down their cheeks "nothing has gone to plan so far. I just ran away from everything I knew and now I'm a farmer. I don't know anything about farming."

"I didn't know anything about chickens till I came here" gulps down some beer "I didn't know anything about being a parent till I got Jaz either. It's tough at times I'll be honest"

"but that's different Jaz loves you you try your best and you're a good dad to her"

"yeah ... I'm not her dad"

"oh sorry I didn't mean to assume-"

"no no Jaz is my God daughter. I eh ... Her parents died one night. Car crash. It was raining the road was wet guess they couldn't break in time and-... Well... Died. I was looking after Jaz the night it happened and been with her ever since. That's why I'm here. I couldn't look after her. Can barely look after myself sometimes you know?" Taps the beer bottle and takes another drink "parents kicked me out when I was younger. Didn't want me back now I had a baby that didn't change anything. I'd lost my only two friends in the world and I was alone to raise a baby. Few months after Marnie found out and got a hold of me brought us here. Caroline knows lots of natural remedies and herbs to help with teething or sleeping or what ever issue I was having, robin would give us old toys and clothes had some really helpful books and Jodie was always having play dates and babysitting said it was good for Vincent and jaz to play together and Marnie made it all possible ... I guess what I'm trying to say is you're never truly alone. Even if it feels like it."

"that's nice but I can't just ask everyone to chip in and help me they don't know me I don't know them."

"don't you? you fish with Willie I know that means alot to him to have a fellow fisher. You don't judge Linus you give him your time and listen to him talk, Gus likes sending you new recipes and gets excited when you let him try what you made, you are helping Gunther fill the museum I've seen him in Pierres choosing thank you gifts asking what you'd like. You know us. Better than you think and we know you. As for asking them for help trust me you don't need to ask. They want to help they'll find away to help. I swear robin would just break in to renovate stuff for Jaz. Come home drunk to a mad woman in the kitchen sanding down the corners of the table. Almost scared me sober... Almost." Takes another drink.

"I don't even know if I want to keep it"

"it's ok if you don't. What ever choice you make is ok as long as it's the right choice for you. You don't need to have all the answers tonight. Either way you aren't alone"

"I feel like I've made so many mistakes what if this is another one? When I got here I was so rude to everyone how could they possibly like me? I just with I could start again."

" I know that feeling. I was rude to you when you first came here. Still don't know why you chose to be nice to me" he puts the bottle down and faces the farmer holding his hand out. "Hi I'm Shane. My pronouns are he him. I work at joja mart and i like chickens"

The farmer takes his hand "hi I'm Evie. My pronouns are she her. I work on the farm and I'm pregnant"

"well that's two things sorted tonight let's worry about the rest tomorrow" he leans back looking at the stars. The farmer follows his gaze watching night sky. It's so peaceful so beautiful her problems feel so far away and in this moment everything will be ok.

"yeah... Things will be ok. I'm not alone"

"and if you keep it even if the father doesn't help you have a whole village behind you, supporting you. You aren't alone"

The father.

"FUCK"

[devilselbowhq]

THE WILD & WONDERFUL APPALACHIA WELCOMES... lena boudreaux as written by coni ( she / her ).

✱ affiliated with SILVER LINING MILITIA ✱ working as FIELD MEDIC / COOK ✱ has taken up residence in DEVIL'S ELBOW ✱ born on AUGUST 8TH ( 29 ) ✱ identifying as CIS WOMAN ( SHE / HER ) ✱ known to be RESILIENT, CHARMING, CARING, COOL-HEADED, RESPONSIBLE ✱ also know to be EXHAUSTED, HEARTBROKEN, EVASIVE, SOFT-HEARTED, STUBBORN ✱ portrayed by NADIA HILKER

DIGGING DEEPER.

Her entire community was wiped out in a trade dispute gone violent, a massacre carried out by opportunistic raiders with corporate ties. Lena survived by chance—returning home to smoke-cured meat and finding only silence. This loss reshaped her, and she wandered for years before settling in Devil’s Elbow.

Now known as “Mama Lena” or “Swamp Mama,” she runs a small shack-diner at the forest’s edge that serves as neutral ground, medicine stop, and meeting place for all walks of life—criminals, Peacekeepers, cultists, and scavvers alike.

She has no blood family left, but treats those she feeds or tends to like kin—especially the lost, the outcast, and the sick. Many of her "children" are orphans, loners, and exiles who owe her their lives.

Her goal is simple but stubbornly defiant: to keep one warm place in the world untouched by cruelty or power, where the hungry are fed, the sick are healed, and the lost can rest—if only for a moment.

EXTRAS.

headcanons:

Lena Boudreaux was born in the muck and moss of the post-war South, where the water glows faint and the trees whisper when the wind shifts. Raised in a collapsed world, Lena learned young that survival depended on more than force—it took community, nourishment, and wisdom passed down through stained hands and murmured songs. Her mother could stop a fever with herbs and prayer. Her father could take down a rad-gator with one shot. Lena learned both, and then some.

When raiders tore through her home settlement, Lena did not run. She stayed, gathered the wounded, fed the starving, and sang old songs to the dying. Word of her spread like steam on bayou water. Now she resides near Devil’s Elbow, in a half-sunken shack turned diner and infirmary—open to any soul in need of food, rest, or healing, regardless of what they’ve done.

Locals call her Swamp Mama. Silver Lining calls her essential. Afterglow calls her suspicious. Lena just calls herself a cook. But she’ll boil your poison out and stitch your wounds before the stew’s done—if you show her respect.

inventory:

Cast iron skillet (used for cooking, defense, and intimidation)

Spice kit (salt, red pepper, ashes of a sacred herb, and dried sassafras root)

"Maman’s Words and Warnings" (journal of recipes, visions, and cures—some pages burned or redacted)

Jar of okra pickles (used as trade or to test for rot-blood in the sick)

Smudge bowl with bone dust and sweetgrass for protection rites

Cache of Silver Lining medical leaflets hidden in flour sacks

misc:

Keeps a small windchime made of teeth and buttons hanging outside her window—when it rings, danger is near

Smells like smoked rosemary and old stories

[wildwood-faun]

what kind of antibiotics do you have that you cant eat for an hour after taking them?? as long as you dont eat dairy when taking them you're normally good to go? (very curious nurse)

I was surprised too! My aunt said while filling out the recipe that taking them with food might make it easier on my system (as well as easier to remember!) but then the pharmacist instructed me to take them at least an hour before or two hours after a meal. The leaflet agrees with the pharmacist, so I'm following that advice.

Anyway it's Tikacillin, which seems to be phenoxymethylpenicillin!

[timetraveltasting]

HONEY BISCUITS (WARTIME BRITISH TEA BISCUITS, 1943)

After being away travelling for the weekend, I was looking to make a simple Tasting History recipe upon my return and found it in these Honey Biscuits. The recipe comes from the United Kingdom Ministry of Food's War Cookery Leaflet No. 23, which urged citizens to use sweeteners like fruit, saccharin tablets, and honey in place of or to fortify rationed sugar during World War II. Among other hot drinks and comforts, biscuits were one of the items available for purchase in the underground shelters of the UK during the Blitz of the early 1940s, when German planes were bombing British cities. Originally, citizens were barred from using the Underground tube stations as bomb shelters, but as the bombing went on, they were used increasingly to keep people safe. As the new normal set in, people began selling food and drink to those taking refuge there. Among these items, one could purchase tea and biscuits, similar to the wartime recipe here. See Max’s video on how to make this dish here or see the ingredients and process at the end of this post, sourced from his website.

My experience making it:

I made the full amount stated in the recipe this time, as we never have a problem polishing off cookies in this house! I used Kærgården salted margarine and linden tree honey to make this recipe, and I opted to use an electric hand-mixer for most of the mixing steps.

Pre-heating the oven first, I portioned out my ingredients and immediately began by whisking the dry ingredients (flour, salt, cinnamon, and baking powder) in a bowl so they would be ready to add in later. I also prepared a baking pan lined with parchment paper so that would be ready to go for later. In a separate, larger bowl, I creamed the margarine and sugar together until they were looking whipped, beating in the honey to make a nice sticky mixture. I then added the dry flour mixture to the large bowl little by little, mixing with the hand-mixer on a low setting until all of the dry ingredients were combined. The dough looked very dry and crumbly, and at first I was worried that the dough would be too dry - I briefly considered veering away from the recipe and adding in a bit of milk or an egg, but in the end, decided to trust the recipe. Good thing too, because as I began gathering the dough together with my hands, I noticed the margarine was melting just enough to act as a binder. The more I squished the dough together with my hands, the more doughy the mixture was looking. While I am normally a floured surface kinda gal, I decided to try Max's method of putting the ball of dough between two pieces of parchment paper and rolling it out with a rolling pin. This didn't work amazingly for me, as the parchment just kept slipping around since there was nothing holding it to the table. In the end, I removed the top piece of parchment and tried to roll the dough directly. This worked much better, and I think it helped that the dough was not very sticky to begin with. As a result, none of the dough got stuck to the rolling pin - a small miracle. I rolled the dough out until 5mm thick, then began using my tree-shaped and gingerbread man-shaped cookie cutters (I couldn't find my classic round ones) to make enough biscuits for the first batch. I baked the first batch in the oven for just over 10 minutes, meanwhile re-rolling out the leftover dough and cutting more shapes for the next batch. The biscuits in the oven just had a light touch of browning on the edges, and since I like softer biscuits in general, I decided to take them out. They had hardened quite nicely, so I let them cool on some newspaper, like my mom used to do. I made three more batches in the oven following the same process until I had a nice full plate of cooked biscuits! I put the kettle on and made some orange pekoe tea, because I had to try these biscuits with tea, as they would have done in the Blitz bomb shelters.

My experience tasting it:

Once the tea was ready, I let it cool for a few minutes. Meanwhile, I took my first bite of honey biscuit. My immediate thought was that it tasted like a really lightly-flavoured gingerbread cookie, and not just because I used gingerbread man cookie cutters. Texture-wise, it reminded me of a really crumbly shortbread cookie, since it had a similar thickness and look on the inside. While the biscuit did taste sweet enough, I wouldn't say the honey was the main flavour. In fact, they tasted saltier than I expected, and I wondered if my 'pinch of salt' had been a bit too large. As someone who quite likes a sweet and salty contrast in desserts, I didn't mind at all, and I thought the biscuits tasted decent. Nothing to write home about, but good nonetheless. Next I tried dipping a biscuit in my tea. It seemed the biscuit crumbled and disintegrated a little into the tea - perhaps I should have baked them just a little longer so they would hold up. Regardless, when I took a bite of the tea-soaked biscuit, I found they transported the tea's flavour really nicely, soaking it up well. They were a great pair! Because this recipe is very easy to make, doesn't take too long, has less sugar, and is nicely flavoured, I think I will make these again. However, to add a bit more interest, I would probably experiment with various toppings: a small amount of icing, some powdered sugar, or some sprinkles. That might be the sweet tooth in me talking, though. I can see these biscuits adding a touch of comfort to an otherwise scary time for the Brits seeking refuge from the Blitz in the bomb shelters. If you end up making this dish, if you liked it, or if you changed anything from the original recipe, do let me know!

Honey Biscuits original recipe (1943)

Sourced from Making the most of the sugar, from War Cookery Leaflet No. 23 by the UK's Ministry of Food (1943).

Honey biscuits 2 1/2 oz. margarine 1 oz. sugar 1 dried egg, dry 2 tablespoons honey 6 oz. self raising flour 1 teaspoon cinnamon Pinch salt Cream the margarine and sugar and beat in the egg. Add the honey, work in the flour, cinnamon and salt. Roll out until 1/4 inch thick. Cut into rounds, place on a baking sheet, and bake in a moderately hot oven for 10 minutes. This quantity makes approximately 40-50 biscuits.

Modern Recipe

Based on the recipe from Making the most of the sugar, from War Cookery Leaflet No. 23 by the UK's Ministry of Food (1943) and Max Miller’s version in his Tasting History video.

Ingredients:

Generous 5 tbsp (75 g) margarine

2 tbsp sugar

2 tbsp honey

Scant 1 1/2 cups (170 g) plain flour

2 tsp baking powder

1 tsp ground cinnamon

Pinch of salt

Method:

Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C).

Cream the margarine and sugar until it’s nice and smooth. Beat in the honey until combined.

In a separate bowl, sift the flour. Whisk in the baking powder, cinnamon, and salt.

Add the dry ingredients to the butter mixture and mix until it’s just combined.

Either on a floured surface or between two pieces of parchment, roll the dough out to 1/4 inch (5 mm) thick.

Cut the dough out using a 2 inch (5 cm) cookie cutter. Place the cookies on a lined baking sheet. They aren’t going to spread much, so you can place them close together. Gather, reroll, and cut out more cookies from any leftover dough.

Bake for 10 minutes or until golden brown.

Let the cookies cool completely, then serve them forth.

[najia-cooks]

Lemon balm shortbread cookies

Lemon balm (Melissa officinalis), a commonly foraged plant in the mint family, gives a lightly herbacious, bright lemon flavor to these shortbread cookies. They have a classic, crisp, sandy shortbread texture; optional poppy seeds add crunch and a mild nutty flavor. The lemon balm and poppy seeds may be swapped out for any combination of herbs, spices, or citrus zest that your heart desires.

These cookies are subtly sweet and very dunkable, making them perfect companions to a cup of tea or coffee.

Recipe under the cut!

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Lemon balm has square stems and opposite leaves (two leaves per node on opposite sides of the stem). Leaves are simple (one leaf blade with no leaflets); ovate and slightly heart-shaped, with scalloped edges; slightly glossy; thin, soft, and hairy; and deeply veined. They are emerald green on the top, and a lighter greyish green on the underside. They have a lemony scent and an oily texture when crushed. Stems and petioles (leaf stalks) are covered in small standing hairs.

Ingredients:

120g (1/2 cup + 1 Tbsp) salted non-dairy margarine, softened

60g (1/3 cup) caster or granulated sugar

180g (1 1/2 cups) AP flour

1/4 cup (8.5g) minced lemon balm

1 tsp poppy seeds (optional)

Like most traditional shortbread, this recipe follows a 1:2:3 ratio of sugar:butter:flour (by weight). Any herbs, spices, citrus zest, etc. of your choosing may be added to that base.

You could replace the caster sugar with powdered sugar if you want a melt-in-your-mouth texture, rather than a typical crumbly shortbread texture.

Instructions:

Cream margarine with an electric beater for 30 seconds, until it has a whipped texture. Add lemon balm and sugar and beat for another 3 minutes or so, until a couple shades lighter in color (this means that you have incorporated enough air).

Add the flour and mix well with a wooden spoon; then press with your hands to form into a ball.

Roll the dough out into a cylinder. You can make the cylinder more regular by placing it on a piece of wax or parchment paper, then folding the parchment paper over; use a ruler or the flat of a knife to force the cylinder of dough back into the folded edge of the paper.

Wrap the dough by twisting the ends of the parchment paper around, like a candy wrapper. Chill the dough for at least an hour, to keep the cookies from spreading in the oven by allowing the flour to absorb liquid.

Using a sharp paring knife, cut the cylinder of dough into slices about 1/4" thick. Place on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper, about 1/2" apart.

Bake at 350 °F (180 °C), in the top third of your oven, for 8 to 10 minutes. For chewier cookies, bake just until the center of the top and bottom of the cookie is no longer wet-looking; for crisper ones, bake until the edges are just starting to turn a light golden color.

[thelibraryghost]

1910s Cookery Books

Here is a sample of World War One-era cookbooks; more can be found at my blog.

Wartime cookery     Haskin, Frederic Jennings, comp. War Cook Book for American Women. Washington, DC: United States Food Administration, 1917.     Hill, Janet McKenzie. Economical War-Time Cook Book. New York, NY: George Cully & Company, 1918.     Hill, McKenzie Janet. War Time Recipes. Cincinnati, OH: The Proctor & Gamble Co., 1918.     Oldmeadow, Ernest. Home Cookery in War-Time. London: Grant Richards Ltd., 1915.     Snyder, Mrs. Sherwood P. Food Conservation and the Art of Home Canning. Binghamton, NY: Health Publishing Co., 1917.     Webber, Carolyn Putnam. Two Hundred and Seventy-Five War-Time Recipes. Bedford, MA: The Bedford Print Shop, 1918.     —. How to Save Eggs by Using Dr. Price's Cream Baking Powder. Chicago, IL: Royal Baking Powder Co., 1917.     —. United States Food Leaflet No. 5: Make a Little Meat Go a Long Way. Washington, DC: United States Department of Agriculture, 1917.     —. War Bread and Bread Crumb Recipes. Denton, TX: State College for Women, 1918.     —. Wheatless Recipes. New York, NY: Royal Baking Powder Co., 1918.

[transienturl]

dreamed that due to time machine shenanigans I was trapped on the crashing "titanic," which now that I am thinking about it while awake was, to the t, formatted as an escape room (I have never done an escape room). I mean, there was a contrived scifi setup, it was all puzzles. right before I woke up I was reading the highlighted words looking backward through a leaflet made of conveniently translucent paper about the different formulations of homemade explosive, trying to figure out which recipe was supposed to be appropriate to propel a (steampunk) time-machine-motorcycle along the surface of the water, which we needed to use to shoot @once-more-with-gravitas into the past-and-or-future as we determined that he (in a magician-audience-plant sort of way) was—despite being part of our group—factually already in both time periods and could feed information to "himself" to get us necessary information via setting up specific colored ropes, and we needed to have done that to close the time loop. I was yelling all of the ingredients I could find like cornmeal, nitroglycerine, etc. I did find a flipbook style pad of paper with holes to show parts of other pages and looked like it could reveal info but the "teacher" (was this a class trip?) was like uh actually you don't need that yet sorry (I guess this person was effectively the employee running the room). I think we had like 10 minutes or less before the ship crashed so I dunno if we would have made it; it felt like there was another section entirely after this one given the flipbook and what was probably another area beyond a bulkhead. the main issue imo seemed to be that only one person could fit in the area with all of the relevant stuff, at the part I woke up doing, which in retrospect I guess works for the dream, but we had like 7+ people and the rest of them were just milling around since they literally couldn't access anything which was stupid. it was very atmospheric though (I mean, being a dream instead of an escape room, it was much more able to be; earlier there was a scene transition that admittedly involved reality fading from one state to another which put everyone in midriff-deep rushing water). my current only idea was just to combine every ingredient, which seemed incorrect, but I was just about figuring out to read all of the highlighted words which were making a sentence so I bet that would have determined that bit; I think a lot of the mixing and processing equipment was puzzle gated though so we weren't super close to actually making the explosive yet

[zeroducks-2]

Zero, pls give me the strength to write a filth ass sladick fic. I’ve got the brain worms for one specific abo fic, and I stg, it’s all I can think about rn 😭 do u have any advice for me?? Writing? Motivation? Characterization? 🥺🙏

Of course!

Now I'm of the opinion that writing advice, ALL the writing advice you find online with no exception whatsoever, is totally useless. "Think of the characters this way!", "structure the plot that way!", "motivate yourself going by percentages!" etc - it's not that it's bad pieces of advice, in fact, they're all great suggestions. The issue with them is that creating a story has some technical aspects, but writing is unique to every person.

One of the billion writing advice floating around might be great for you, or maybe all of them work, but maybe not at single one is even vaguely useful, because how you approach writing is strictly personal so if they work on you or not is completely hit and miss.

Therefore what I can tell you is how I work, and maybe you'll find some compatible aspects and it can help you :)

Long post ahead!

Writing & Motivation:

MOST IMPORTANT. Talk about this with someone. DM your beloved mutual, hit your bestie up on discord, annoy me on anon, do whatever you need to talk about this fic. Talk about the plot, how the characters are supposed to be like, what should happen, what world building is in place, how the sex should pan out. "But people will be annoyed!" NO WE WON'T, I PROMISE. I love hearing people's ideas on their next fic, AU, revolutionary plot bunny. I love all of them and I'm not the only one. Talk to us about your fic!

Don't pick a specific time or moment of the day to start writing. You have 20 minutes and then your cousin will be there? It's alright, throw down 30 words in those minutes. You have two hours and you're afraid you'll get in too deep before the dentist appointment? I KNOW IT HURTS but when you're back from the dentist you might be tired, in pain, not motivated anymore. Write when you feel the itch, even on a leaflet with a permanent marker (I normally use my phone's notes if I have no choice). Don't wait for the right moment, the right moment can be any time you want it to be!

Don't plan a shitton of chapters. Plan just one, write that one. "But it's 1k and there isn't even smut!" It's still better than no chapter at all with 0k words isn't it? Write that scene, no matter how short it is. Once it's done admire it, look how beautiful it is. You want to write more now? Great, go ahead! You don't feel like going on with this? It might be time to share your little thing with someone on AO3, on tumblr or IRL! And if writing just that one little chapter satisfied you, that also is okay! Oh wait, you only know what to write for your sex scene, no context? Write that sex scene, the context is right there in your head. If you'll also want to write the context that's fantastic, but start by writing that scene you want to write, don't stress because you need to "get to it". Don't punish yourself with "I can write what I want to write only after 20k words of introduction", that's the perfect recipe to make you drop the fic.

Characterization

Don't be afraid that the characters might be OOC. I promise you no one cares, and the people who care won't click on an ABO fic which maybe is also a Feudal Japan AU with aliens. What matters is the impression of the characters. I'm writing one of the sections of my Omegaverse Royal AU at the moment, and I decided to make it Eobarry! But I have no idea how to write Eobard, he is a real challenge to me - I have an Eobard expert friend who gives me some advice, but still. He's a complex character with a rich history and there isn't much I can do to keep him IC, but the thing is... if I don't write this, there's simply going to be less Eobarry fics to go around. Better if there's one more, even if it's not up to whatever imaginary standard I set with myself, than one less.

Don't be afraid to make the characters act a certain way because it's convenient. This is the exact opposite advice I give when people are writing non-transformative work: When you're writing a story, once you decide that a character is afraid of spiders you need to stick with it and make them afraid of spiders forever, they can't be afraid of spiders only for 1 scene. This does not count for fanfictions. Fanfictions exist for us to have fun, be horny, feel a whole lot of emotions and fulfill the desire to chew on our blorbos like they were squeaky toys. So you want Dick to be afraid of spiders in this fic? It never happened in canon...? Who gives a shit, he is now afraid of spiders. You want to make Slade very good at playing marbles? Cool, he is now a champion marble player for your fic and your fic only. And it doesn't matter if the characters are not consistent and "fall in love too quickly", or if "the sex is not realistic", or if "they should get pregnant like this", or if "there's no way they'd be alright with this situation". None of this crap, nobody gives a damn. You're writing to have fun, not to win a literary prize.

You might write A LOT and then realize you are absolutely unsatisfied with how the story went, because a character did something which set them on a course that you ended up not liking. It's fine! Go back to where the choice was taken and split the fic! Coincidentally, it's something I am doing with my Omegaverse Royal AU (the Sladick part) because I decided I wanted it darker :)

And remember, it's okay to be inspired by other fics. If you take something precisely off another fic you might want to ask permission because it's the polite thing to do, but if for example you find that you write Alpha Slade with a scar on his mating gland because you read that in my fic, that's totally okay! We continuously get inspired by each other, and my beloved writer friends know that I take inspiration from their things! (indeed my Omegaverse Royal AU, because apparently it's the perfect example for everything today, was inspired by the amazing works of anawrites and TheSubtextIs, with their Conflict Resolution and Conquered by Love).

Reach out if you need help, or if you want more specific advice that might be 100% useless! Cheers :D